


This Is Not A Test

by prettyredfox



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF), The Purge (Movies), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Gore, Explicit Language, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-05-25 12:45:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyredfox/pseuds/prettyredfox
Summary: “This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government."Mark wasn't supposed to be out past the start of their annual Purge.  He was supposed to be home, safe and sound, waiting it out until the morning.Jack's done hiding in fear and he's going to do whatever's necessary to protect those who can't protect themselves.I totally suck at summaries and I'm sorry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Did you ask for it? Not at all, but the writing bug struck me and I've been working on this one for awhile, so your'e getting it anyways. If you read this, thank you so much and reviews are always appreciated! I don't have anyone to read my stuff and fix my grammar and misspelling so...please forgive me.

“This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes. Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all."

Every year it’d been the same.

If you’d asked Jack before the move from Ireland to America what he knew about America’s annual Purge, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you much. He’d known the basics, sure. All crime is legal. You can do whatever you want without getting arrested. It was one thing to hear it-it was a whole other to see it.

When telling anyone his reasons behind the move, Jack would simply say he’d done it for college. More opportunities, better careers. The truth was he’d been lonely. His family had lived close and the people in the small community were all friendly enough. Yet, all that vast wilderness and nights spent alone with a cup of coffee and his computer had him wishing for more. For something bigger.

The internet seemed like his only friend.

Keeping in contact with people online was his only saving grace-it kept him sane when the only sound for miles was his own breathing and the occasional hoot of an owl. Most of the people he talked to just so happen to live in America. So, Jack came up with a seemingly brilliant plan. He’d move to America and go to college there, make new friends, meet the ones he’d talked to online and hope they had a connection in person, as well.

And that’s just what he did.

He moved to Los Angeles and started college that August. It was surprisingly easy to leave his family and old place behind-to start over in another country. He still kept in contact with them through phone calls and Skype. It wasn’t until around the beginning of March that he even started to hear talk about The Purge. He’d heard of it before, of course and sometimes he’d hear someone mention something about it, but mostly it seemed to be a subject left unspoken. Not quite a secret, but something you didn’t go into great detail about.

“The Purge does so much good for us.” A student would comment in passing.

“My father loves to celebrate The Purge.” Another would admit proudly to their friends.

“Everyone will be safe on campus.” The teachers would remind. “If you leave campus, you’re on your own.”

It wasn’t until after his first Purge in America that Jack realized his American friends online didn’t have it as good as he originally thought.

March 21st arrived with a bang. Bouquets of blue flowers cropped up all over campus and the radio stations got weird. Jack tended to avoid news stations and the like, so he didn’t understand just how weird until he got to class.

“Safe night everyone.” His first teacher ended the class with. Every teacher after said the same.

One student asked his math professor if he would be participating in The Purge. Mr. Dudley had given a big grin and nodded. “Of course. It is my right as an American to Purge.” Some students had laughed and agreed, others had just looked down quietly. Something about the sentence and the look in his professor’s eyes gave Jack the willies.

“Safe night.” People on the street said to him as he walked to the pharmacy for groceries. He’d nodded back, brow furrowed in confusion.

It’d been his first Purge. He hadn’t understood then the importance of not being out past curfew until too late. He’d dawdled too much on the walk home, checking his phone, shuffling his feet.

He hadn’t truly understood his mistake until the screaming started.

He’d made it through the night by hiding under a large dumpster until well past 7 AM. The things he saw and heard that night haunted him and kept him terrified of people for a long time after.

It’d been a few years since his first Purge. He was still terrified. But Jack didn’t let it paralyze him anymore.

~

“Just be safe, Mark.” His mom said into the phone and through the receiver he could hear her spoon clinking against the inside of her bowl while she stirred, in the middle of making diner. “I worry about you in the city, love.”

“I’ll be fine, mom.” He smiled fondly, eyes on his computer screen from his place at his desk. “I’ll lock down the house and keep quiet. I’m in a good neighborhood, most of my neighbors are against The Purge.”

“I just don’t like you being alone.”

“Mom, really, I’ll be fine. Besides, Tyler and Ethan are here, too, remember?” The last sentence was a lie, unfortunately. Both of his friends had gone to stay with their families for the week, but he wouldn’t tell his mother that. It would just make her worry all night about him, which was senseless. The only plans he had was to go to work, walk home, lock down the house, and sleep in the closet with a baseball bat tucked close to his chest. He’d be completely fine.

“Okay, Mark.” His Mom sighed into the phone receiver and the sound of her stirring stopped. “Be careful, please. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom. Safe night.”

“Safe night, sweetheart.”

After hanging up, Mark started getting ready for work. He really wished he’d asked off for today, but money was money. His boss probably wouldn’t have allowed it anyway seeing as how he’d been the only employee dumb enough _not_ to ask off. _You’re only working 12 to 6 tonight. You’re going to be home with plenty of time before The Purge._ At least his boss had been smart enough to close down the shop early tonight.

“Where you going, dear?” His neighbor, Mrs. Wendell asked in concern when she saw him leaving. She was a sweet old lady with brightly-dyed, red hair and usually seen wearing old, clunky jewelry. Today she had on a giant sun bonnet while she worked in her garden, a glass jar of sweet tea setting next to her on one of the stones from her walkway.

“I’ve got to go to work, Mrs. Wendell.” He said politely, giving her a friendly smile as he slowed to a stop on the sidewalk, despite the fact that he might be late. All of his neighbors were terribly nice and older, constantly worrying over him and his friends and he just couldn’t bring himself to mind the attention.

Her sweet, old face wrinkled into a frown and she set her small garden hoe down next to her, wiping her hands off on her work pants. “What do you mean you’re going to work, Mr. Fischbach? Don’t you remember what day it is?”

“I do.” He chuckled. “No worries, ma’am, the shop closes up early tonight. I’ll have plenty of time to get back home.”

“I still don’t like it, dear.” She shook her head. “You should just call in. You could spend the night with me, if you’d like. After Harold died, I used the money I got to reinforce everything. I could use the company.”

The offer was extremely generous and it actually sounded quite pleasant. The thought of being somewhere safe for the night and not alone was too good to pass up. “I do have to go to work, Mrs. Wendell. But, if you don’t mind, when I get off I’d love to take you up on that.”

She still seemed unhappy, but she gave a small smile and nodded. “Fine. But, you make sure you make it back safe, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Until tonight, Mr. Fischbach.”

He was five minutes late to work, but it was worth it. His manager left as soon as he arrived, leaving him alone in the mechanic shop. A vase of blue Baptisias sat in the window in view for everyone walking along the street. It made Mark a little ill.

All sorts dropped in for pickups and last minute shopping. Young teenagers browsing the hardware, laughing with their friends as they picked up hammers and wrenches and swung them around like a bat. An old couple smiling as they carefully selected chains. The worst came in around forty minutes to closing time.

An older man, maybe in his early fifties with large shoulders and an athletic build took the flowers as a reason to talk all about his previous Purges. He had a crew cut and dark eyes that he used to watch Mark with slyly as he went into disgusting details. And Mark just had to listen. All because his country had made it legal and perfectly fine to rape and murder for one night a year.

“I released the beast.” The pig laughed. “Bitches had it coming. I never forget. Keep a list of all the skanks I’m gonna gank on my night to Purge.” He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at Mark. Mark pretended not to see as he rang up the man’s order and bagged it. (Duct tape, saw blades, zip ties, and bolt cutters. And of course, a pack of spearmint gum. Because it was important to stay fresh on Purge night.) “Just doing some last minute shopping for tonight.” He’d said when he put it on the counter.

“Aye. Why don’t you get the fuck on with it, then and quit bugging him?” A heavily accented voice said, startling both the man and Mark. The older man turned slowly, face pulled into a dangerous snarl. There, behind him was a smaller man, though he only looked smaller compared to the other guy. Next to Mark, they would be about the same size, though the Irishman was slightly leaner. His eyes were a shocking blue and his hair was dyed an electric green on top. He stood calmly with his hands in his jeans, the hood of his loose jacket pulled up to where just the bright green of his bangs showed.

“What the fuck did you say, you little shit?” The larger man growled. Mark’s fingers twitched nervously. There was a handgun taped to the underside of the counter, but he’d only shot someone once before. It wasn’t something he wanted a repeat of. But he couldn’t let his savior- _his stupid-ass savior_ \- get beat to death because he was too afraid.

His savior didn’t look afraid or even the slightest bit uncomfortable. “I said leave him be, you nasty fucker. Take your shit and go before I give you a Purge you’ll never forget.” He snapped, lip pulling back into a wicked smile.

The man took a step towards the Irishman and Mark reached for the gun. Both actions were halted by the sound of a horn being blared from outside. Everyone but the Irishman looked. Outside was a large, heavily armored, black van with green eyeballs decorating the side doors. An impatient looking man with a beard sat behind the wheel, an AK47 propped up and aimed their way.

“I think it’d be in your best interest to just do what I say. My friend is a little trigger happy this close to Purging time.”

For a second, Mark thought the man was going to ignore the gun and obvious threat as he stared down the shorter man in front of him. Finally, with a hateful scoff, he grabbed his bags and shoved past the man to the door, stomping like a giant child after being scolded.

“Hey.” The Irishman said after the shop door closed behind the man and Mark jumped a little, removing his hand somewhat guiltily from under the counter. “You okay, man?”

“I’m-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Mark said, breathing deep. His hands were shaking from where he held them by his side. “Thank you. Really, thanks so much, but you didn’t have to do that. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

The man scoffed, eyes crinkling in amusement. He stepped closer to the counter, setting his items on it in front of Mark. Nails, lots and lots of nails and body padding. “I’ve got some special ordered gun vests in the back, too.” Really, Mark should’ve known. Another strong believer of America’s annual Purge. “And I know I didn’t have to. But the way that slime was staring at you didn’t bode well for me.”

“Last name?” Mark asked coolly. This was why you don’t trust people. Sure, his savior might’ve helped him with the man, but it was obvious by the armored vehicle outside and his gun-toting friend that he wasn’t the type to hide away at home until Purging hours were over. Did he and his friends go out hunting? Searching out homeless veterans and people unlucky enough to be caught outside?

“Mcloughlin.” He was still smiling, blue eyes friendly as they watched Mark move towards the back. “My name is Jack Mcloughlin.”

Mark nodded and went into the back room to look through their orders. Jack. It suited the stranger somehow. The crate storing the vests was heavy and he brought it back up to the front counter, lifting it and setting it on top with a grunt. “There ya’ go. You gonna be able to carry that to your van with everything?” He started ringing everything up, putting the nails and other items into a bag.

“I’ll make it, thanks.” Jack laughed. “So, what’s your name?”

Mark stopped, hand on the cash register as his cheeks heated. “My name’s Mark.” He said softly and he had to physically stop himself from nervously reaching up to run his hands through his dark hair. _You’re not a girl, Markimoo. You will not fix your hair and you will stop biting your lip_!

“Nice to meet you, Mark.” Jack said, his mouth spreading into a pleased grin. With red, burning cheeks and his stomach fluttering uncomfortably, Mark finished ringing up the man’s items. He read out the total, struggling not to wince. The amount was more than his rent. Customized, tactical vests were pricey. Jack whipped a wad of cash without blinking and counted into Mark’s palm, fingers grazing his hand with every bill. _You’re biting your lip again, idiot_.

It wasn’t until handing Jack his receipt that he realized he didn’t want this interesting stranger to leave. Which was silly, he didn’t know this man. “It was nice to meet you, Jack.” He said with a small smile. “Thank you again.”

“Of course.” Jack grinned back, hefting the crate up, bags hanging over his arms. He held it with surprising ease. “It was nice to meet you too, Mark.” The smile slipped from his face and Mark blinked in shock from the sudden intense look in Jack’s blue eyes. “Stay safe tonight.”

“You too.” He said, just as serious as he threw a glance towards the van parked outside. “I hope you stay safe, too.”

With a last parting grin, Jack left, the cow bell on the shop door jangling loudly as it closed behind him. Mark watched him walk up to the side of the van, the door sliding open to reveal another young man in the back with blonde hair and a sly smirk as he took the crate from Jack so the Irishman could climb in. The door slid shut behind them. The man with the gun in front threw Mark a peace sign just before pulling away.

~

The sky wasn’t dark, yet, thankfully when Mark started shutting the shop down. Every time he passed by the vase of blue flowers as he fluttered about shelving misplaced items and flicking off lights, he thought about tossing them. In the end, he decided to leave them up in the window, because no matter his opinion, they would hopefully make vandalizers think twice before they broke into the place. Either that, or they would see the Baptisias as an invitation to take whatever they wanted in the name of the Purge.

Finally, with everything done for the night and his watch officially reading six, he flipped the sign on the door to closed, grabbing his keys and the trash before heading out. Glancing around cautiously, he locked the front door and set the alarm, taking in the already empty streets. It made him feel anxious, even though he knew he still had plenty of time to get home. Everyone not participating in tonight was probably already at home, checking defenses and hoping they hadn’t done anything to piss someone off during the year.

The alley that the dumpster was in was shrouded in shadows and too many dark corners for comfort, nestled in between the mechanic shop and the accounting building next door. He stepped into it hesitantly, pausing at the mouth as he peered around nervously, squinting through his glasses to try to make out the shapes in the poor lighting.

 _Hurry, stupid, you still have to walk your ass home_.

So, he entered the alley, ignoring the way his body tensed and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He ignored the almost aggressive silence and his instinct telling him to just ditch the trash bag on the sidewalk and hightail it home. His shoes crunched on pieces of glass and a cool breeze blew, making him regret his decision not to bring a hoodie with him to work.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. There was movement beside him, behind him, then a solid _thunk_ against the side of his head and a roaring, stinging pain as his vision blacked out completely and he went down.

~

“It’s about that time.” Ken reminded from the front, fingers tapping the steering wheel, gun in the seat next to him. “Where do you want to start out?”

“Good question.” The sun had gone down, setting the mood for the upcoming hours as the only lighting came from the occasional street light. Felix sat quietly in the back next to him, fiddling with the straps of his gun vest and occasionally bitching about how big it was on him (Despite the fact that they’d had each vest specifically tailored to each one of them). “Find an alley or somewhere to wait in for now and we’ll wait to see where the action starts up.” They were close enough to the park where some groups went to search for the homeless (In vain-the homeless stopped sticking to the park after the first years or so and now took to hiding better). They may or may not have still been close to the mechanic shop as well, but that was just a plus.

“There were blue flowers up in the shop window, you know.” Ken said quietly as Jack watched the time tick down on his watch. “He’s probably a proud supporter of our wonderful Purge.” His lip curled sarcastically with the false praise.

“No.” Jack stared at his watch, not bothering to even look up as he answered. _Three minutes and thirty-two seconds_. “You should’ve seen the face he was making while that pig was talking to him. Or how pale he got when I set my shit on the counter. Trust me, he’s not into it.” His face twitched into a smile as he remembered Mark’s expressive face, his dark, soft-looking hair and his warm, friendly eyes. No, Mark was kind and sweet and incredibly not made for the life Jack had made for himself.

 _One minute and fifty-eight seconds_.

The radio crackled. “You guys ready to rock and roll?” Arin’s voice asked through the receiver. Dan’s voice could be heard singing in the background, Ross’s own off-pitched singing threatening to overpower it.

“Ready as we’ll ever be.” Ken answered back into the mouth piece. “We’re parked near the Park.”

 _Forty seconds_.

“Which park?”

“Uh, I don’t know, man. The biggest one? Ya’ll call if you get in over your heads, you hear? Let’s not repeat last year.”

“Can do. Same here, okay? Just cause you bastards think you’re hot-shit, doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

“Deal.”

 _Seven, six, five_ -

“Be safe.”

“You, too, guys.”

 _Four, three, two_ -

And so began the annual Purge. They sat ready and waiting in the dark for the screaming to start.

They didn’t have to wait long.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if anyone's been waiting long! Thank you for the comments and the support. If there's any typos, I'm very sorry, I didn't look over it again before I posted it for the final time. I've looked over it so many times I'm pretty sure I wouldn't notice if there were. ^^

His slow crawl to consciousness was nauseating. The whole left side of his face stung like an open sore and his temple throbbed alongside his heartbeat. His head was wet and drying with tacky blood and he could feel the rocks from the dirty alley beneath him pressing imprints into his skin. A familiar sense of helplessness washed through him along with the feeling of being watched. He could feel eyes on him, a sick feeling sliding over him like oil.

Mark slowly peeled open an eye, fighting the terrible shooting pain it brought as he looked around. Through his fogged up glasses he could just make out the end of a cigarette glowing just a few feet away from where he lay in the dark. “You awake now?” The voice belonging to the cigarette rumbled, sounding pleased. Mark’s growing sense of hopelessness mounted higher. It was the man from the store. Of course it was. He must’ve waited in the alley for Mark.

A sharp kick was delivered into his side with a heavy-toed boot and he grunted low in pain, his ribs taking the brunt of it. “I said, are you awake?” The man growled, his tone growing harsher.

“Yes.” Mark coughed, gripping his side as he forced his eyes all the way open.

The man loomed over him, dressed now in army fatigues, his hair freshly shaved into a strict military cut. He must’ve gone home to get ready first before coming back to hide in wait. The sonofabitch actually went home to get spruced up. A long knife hung off his belt, the handle worn and well-used. On his other hip hung a handgun. He noticed Mark staring at the gun and gave a low-bellied laugh of amusement. “Oh, no, don’t worry, boy! The gun is only for emergencies! You and me will be using my old, trusted friend here.” He lovingly patted the knife before unlatching and sliding it free from its sheath, holding it up so the blade glinted wickedly in the low-lighting.

“Awesome.” Mark croaked, swallowing as his fear threatened to choke him. “Look, why don’t you just let me go? I’ve never done anything to you.”

He smiled cruelly, squatting down next to Mark. “Oh, but I don’t want to let you go.” Mark should’ve known. His fate had probably been sealed since the man had seen Mark’s obvious discomfort during their conversation earlier. Or since Jack had pissed him off. “You know, I don’t usually go for dudes, but I have to say. You look amazing like this. Covered in your own blood and trembling with fear. I think it almost makes up for that piece of shit interrupting us.”

What you don’t know, can in fact hurt you. Mark hadn’t known that going to work would be the worst possible decision or that he was accidentally lying to his sweet, old neighbor when he promised to be back before seven. He hadn’t known that someone would be crazy enough or that life would be unfair enough to have him get knocked out and forced to be out past the time for the Purge to begin. But this man didn’t know Mark or anything that he’d been through, so the man had conveniently not bothered to restrain him at all.

The man came closer, taking Mark’s trembling fear for cowardliness-assuming he was simply resigning to his fate. Feeling powerful, he slid the knife’s refined blade over the delicate skin of Mark’s throat, feeling himself harden in pleasure as his prey whimpered in obvious terror.

This was the moment Mark struck.

Lashing out, he swung his leg, ignoring the sharp bite of the knife as it nicked him. Mark’s foot caught the man off guard, making him grunt in surprise as he lost his balance and fell on his ass with a string of violent curses, fumbling to hold onto his knife. “You little”- The man spit angrily. Mark didn’t let him finish or regain his footing. He lashed out again, throwing himself at him and knocking both of them to the ground, Mark sitting heavily on the man’s chest.

The man thrashed and growled, knife swinging wildly and Mark caught a few gashes on his arms and thighs before knocking the weapon away. It skittered a few feet away, just out of reach for the both of them. The man struggled harder, threatening to overthrow him. The fear, the desperation was overwhelming. _No, no, no_. His mind screamed. _He’s going to get loose. He’s going to kill me._ The anxious, distressed thoughts bubbled and blew up inside him and he unleashed it the only way he could. With a loud shout he brought his fists down hard, the first blow catching the man in the forehead. He made an angry sound from beneath him and Mark brought his clenched fists down again, this time stunning him.

He brought them down again. And again.

He kept the attack, kept raining frantic blows upon the man. Whimpers and choked-off whines filling the alley along with the wet thump of his fists smacking flesh. Something splattered him in the face, but he thought he felt twitching, so he kept going.

He didn’t stop until he realized the distressed whining was coming from him and that the twitching had stopped long before. Mark froze, body trembling from where he still sat on top of the man-on top of what _used to be_ the man. His face was a bloody pulp, swollen almost beyond recognition and there was a faint wheezing noise whistling from his bruised mouth.

“Fuck.” Mark whined. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His hands shook hysterically, soaked in gore. Like before, just like before. Why did this always happen to him? He hated violence, loathed the Purge and yet, here he was being dragged into it, again. Forced to either kill or be killed. He rolled off of the man, looking around in a daze. His head throbbed madly and various cuts he’d accumulated in the fight stung with every movement. And the night had just begun. Joyful howls and screams seemed to echo from everywhere and Mark knew he would have to defend himself several more times if he was going to make it back home alive.

The man on the ground stopped trying to breathe. Mark stared at him in silence for a few minutes, taking in the damage he’d done and trying to calm down. When the shaking had calmed down enough, he stood up and grabbed the weapons before leaving.

~

The high-pitched screams of a woman brought them to their first rescue of the night. By the time they reached where the screaming had come from there was a man lying in the street with his throat slit and a woman was pressed up against the wall of a building surrounded by four men. They laughed as they made crude jokes, the one holding her in place licking the side of her face while he tried to force the woman’s pants down.

Jack took out one of the guys in the back with a metal baseball bat, finding it almost too easy to sneak up behind the idiots. The other three watched on as their friend hit the ground hard, their faces slack with shock. Jack was already swinging again before they had time to get process that they were being attacked.

“Jesus, Jack!” Felix said from behind him, faking insult. “You could save a few of them for the rest of us!” While Jack was taking out guy number two, Felix brought his hatchet up, facing off guy number three just as he made a move towards Jack. The man struck out, swiping wildly with a knife, face scrunched up in rage. Making an affronted noise, Felix dodged the man’s erratic movements, throwing a punch and catching the man in the jaw. The man grunted, getting angrier as he kept swinging his weapon, aiming at the lean man’s face and chest. Felix avoided the knife easily, calmly punching the man in his unguarded face again. And again.

“Felix, quit playing around, dumbass.” Jack chided, cleanly knocking the man he’d been grappling against out with a swift blow to his temple.

“Stop right there!” The man holding the woman yelled, voice shaking, his eyes wide. His knife was pressed tight against the woman’s neck, hand trembling. She gasped in pain as he nicked her repeatedly with his unsteady hands. “I’ll kill her! I’ll fucking kill her!”

“Please!” The woman begged, tears rolling down her face. Her gaze volleyed between Jack and the dead man on the street with his throat slit wide. “Please h-help me. He killed Peter.” She whimpered in despair. “They killed my husband.”

“Shut up, Bitch!” He snapped at her and she whined low in pain. “I’ll cut her fucking throat, don’t think I won’t!”

“Let her go.” Jack sighed, bat hanging down by his side. “Look, just before you get hurt, let the lady go.” Felix finally delivered a blow hard enough to knock the other guy out, leaving just the bastard with the hostage left.

“Fuck you!” He screamed, watching his friend go down. Manic with rage, he pressed harder into the woman’s neck and a line of blood ran thick into the collar of her shirt. The bastard would have to press a lot harder there to actually kill her-he had his knife placed nowhere even near anything vital, like an idiot-but Ken didn’t let it get that far.

A gunshot rang out from across the street, catching the man in the thick meat of his shoulder, hitting him so hard he dropped the knife and the force of the bullet hitting him swung him around. He screamed and smacked against the wall before sliding to the ground, gripping his bleeding wound.

“Nice shot, Ken.” Jack said with a proud grin.

“Child’s play.” Ken grumbled back into his earpiece.

The woman fell to the ground as well, sobbing in relieve or grieve, either was likely. “You should find somewhere safe.” Jack said, crouching down next to her, glancing at her bleeding neck. It would hurt, but the bleeding was already slowing down. She’d be fine.

“There is nowhere safe.” She cried, crawling to her fallen husband. “They dragged us from our home. There is nowhere safe.”

“Ma’am”-

“Leave me alone.” She moaned and pushed her face into her dead husband’s chest, clutching his clothes. “I’m fine now, just leave me alone.”

Felix shrugged his shoulders, brows furrowed. What choice did they have? They couldn’t take her with them and there were others to help. So, they left her crying in the street, the men all passed out around her. Jack placed one of his handguns on the ground next to her, just in case.

“Well, that sucked.” Felix said the instant they closed the van door. Jack couldn’t help but agree.

“Yup.” Ken said from the front seat. “But sometimes that’s just how it works. We did what we could.”

They had. They definitely had and yet, it didn’t feel like enough.

 ~

He fought the guilt back with a frown as he busted the shop’s window out with a brick, ignoring the annoying alarm and hurrying to the weapons displayed by the cash register. Why did they even bother to set the alarms? It wasn’t like any police would answer tonight anyways. Mark gathered supplies as fast as possible, watching the street through the busted window nervously as he stuffed bullets in his pockets and strapped knives to wherever he could.

He hated this. Come the next day his boss would arise to see his shop door smashed in and everything vandalized. It wasn’t like it never happened anyways, but Mark had never been the one to do it before. _It can’t be helped_. He told himself. Using his key would’ve been suspicious and there was no way in hell that he was going to not do everything in his power to survive tonight.

Just as he was stuffing a few extra gun cases into his backpack he heard a few excited hoots of laughter from up the street. It was time to go. Snagging a dark, blue hoodie from one of the racks, he snuck back to the door, peeking through to check for any signs of movement. Empty. He was clear to go, but he’d have to move fast.

He knocked over the vase of Baptistes on the way out.

He didn’t really have a plan except to get home. It wasn’t too far, but the way he usually took was too open. Fuck, that only left him with the back alleys though and after waking up in one less than an hour before, he wasn’t looking forwards to it.

The howling laughter got louder, echoing through the streets and there was the sound of a huge engine revving. Cursing, Mark ran a few feet, ducking in between two buildings, the busted street light above him cloaking the alley in darkness. “Fuck yeah!” Someone screamed and he poked his head around the brick to see a pair of headlights, the plastic over them painted red so an eerie glow shown through. The vehicle was heavily armored and decorated with ugly phrases and crudely drawn skulls. Several people in masks walked alongside it while it patrolled, huge automatics in their hands or slung over their shoulders.

One of the men gripped the head of a dead woman in his hand, her matted hair tangled around his fingers and blood still drizzling from it as he walked. He swung it happily, proudly, almost like he would if he were holding her hand.

The sight was gruesome and Mark quickly ducked back, leaning back against the building, closing his eyes for a second and taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. When he felt steadier-when he’d pushed back everything he’d seen or done tonight-he reopened his eyes. He couldn’t go back out on the street, that was for damn sure. He’d have to find another way.

The alley he was in was open, leading further back behind the buildings. He would have to take his chances there.

~

“You hear that?” Ross asked from the back of the SVU, gripping his gun close to himself.

“Yes, Ross.” Danny said coolly, feet propped up on the dashboard despite how many times Arin had smacked them down. “It’s Purge night, man. There’s going to be a lot of noises.”

“Ross, dammit, get the fucking muzzle away from your face.” Arin snapped, eyes narrowed as he turned around in the driver’s seat. Ross fought him off with a defiant look, but under the weight of Arin’s glare, slowly brought weapon down to safely point at the floor.

“You’re such a scaredy cat, man. Why do you volunteer to go out with us every year? You hate this shit.” Danny asked and fiddled with the radio, again ignoring the sharp glance Arin threw him for changing his station. They both knew Arin didn’t seriously mind.

“You don’t like scary stuff either, _Daniel_! Why doesn’t this shit bother you?”

Danny shrugged, throwing a fond smile at Arin. “I hate it. But someone’s gotta watch Big Cat’s back.” Arin scoffed, keeping his gaze on the street and fighting a smile. Best friends and Arin was still sometimes surprised by Dan’s easy affection.

“Well, there. That’s why I do it. To watch you scrubs and make sure you don’t come back in body bags. Doesn’t mean it still don’t scare the shit out of me.”

Truth be told, it scared the absolute _shit_ out of Dan, too. He’d seen more than enough violence to last a lifetime and it still made him sick. But if Arin and the others could go out every year and risk themselves, he sure as hell could. Fuck yeah he was scared. He was just good at hiding it. Mostly.

“What the hell was _that_?” Ross squeaked suddenly, gripping his gun against his chest again.

“Ross”- Danny turned around in his seat, switching off the radio to look at his friend, lips quirked up in amusement. He was cut off by the soft bang that came from the back end of the SVU, like someone had just knocked into their bumper. He froze, eyes on the tinted back windows. “Arin.” He whispered. “Do we have any visuals on the back cameras?”

“Switching feed.” Arin whispered back, already on the same page as he pulled up the cameras on the laptop settled between them on the middle consol. “Shit.” His gun was in his hand in a flash, eyes narrowed angrily. “Someone knocked it out. Ross, get that fucking gun away from your head and aim it at the door.” Ross obeyed without a word, eyes wide but aware. Fingers steady on his gun even though he breathed shakily in fear.

Dan palmed his own gun, bringing it up to the window, scarcely daring to breathe. The bang must’ve been them knocking out the cameras. Whoever they were, they were smart. Probably not the average fucker winging it, killing everyone he sees as he gets a taste for murder. The silence was thick as they listened tensely, waiting for the attack to come. Hell, just waiting for _something_. It came from Ross’s side, the glass by his head making a horrible sound as it took a bullet.

Ross cried out in surprise, ducking and covering his head instinctually. “Ross! Ross, you’re okay, man!” Dan reassured through his own panic, heart throbbing painfully in his chest. And he was. First thing they’d done to the vehicles was install bullet-proof glass.

Arin growled from the front seat.

Anyone asked would say Arin Hanson was a grumpy guy. Easy to anger and annoy, customarily seen yelling or cursing in a fit of rage. But people didn’t often see the true anger, the absolute cold fury that overtook him until you threatened the people he cared about. If that glass hadn’t been bullet-proof, Ross would be dead. _Fuck that shit_.

“Stay here.” He said firmly, and swung open the van door, quickly throwing himself out and slamming it shut behind him before his friends could protest. He heard the blow coming from behind him, could sense the heat of someone close on his back. On instinct, Arin ducked, the top of something brushing his head as he whirled. Crouching down as he faced his attacker, he lashed out with the butt of his gun. There was a surprised grunt and suddenly a man’s face on Arin’s eye level as the man hunched over his gut. He didn’t allow himself to think about it. Arin brought the muzzle of his gun up to the man’s head and pulled the trigger.

He’d killed before. Never this close, but this was a dangerous job and stuff like this happened. The force of the gun firing snapped back at him, the flash of the muzzle blinding him as the shell clipped him in the eyebrow. A few drops of something wet and warm hit his jaw, but he didn’t allow himself to stop. Angered breathing came from behind him just before a thick muscled arm was wrapped around his neck and he was pulled back against a heated chest. He kicked backwards, twisting his body as he tried to throw the tight grip around his throat, choking him. He gasped for air, fighting in every way he knew how.

“Just give up and die, fucker.” The man chuckled breathlessly into his ear, his free hand coming up to grab the back of Arin’s head and force it tighter into his chokehold. He gagged against the meaty arm, nails digging into skin, trying to loosen the grip. Anything.

“How about you die, you dirty bitch!” Someone yelled just as the spots started to overtake Arin’s vision.

The man made an injured sound and the grip on his neck loosened as the weight pushing against his back grew heavier. “Jesus Arin!” Someone-Danny- cried in alarm, throwing the man off of him, letting the body hit the hard ground. “Are you okay?”

Arin reached up a hand, gently touching the tender skin on his neck and breathing as deeply as he could, gasping for oxygen despite the fact that it felt like he’d swallowed a handful of jagged rocks. “I’m f-fine.” He choked, waving a hand at Danny’s concern. “Are…there more?”

“Ross and I took care of the other one. But I don’t think we’ll be able to get the cameras back on. Bastards fucked them up pretty good. Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached out, grasping Arin’s shoulder, eyes wide and his wild hair sticking up all over the place.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Really.” He grinned weakly. His hands were shaking. He could feel them vibrating against his sides. The man he shot lay in a puddle of blood a few feet away, eyes staring blankly up at the sky. Arin gave him the barest glance before getting back in the van.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start out this chapter by saying I am not sexist in anyway. This is just a story and I have no prejudices against any gender, please don't take offense. There are a lot of things that may be triggering to you. Rape, murder, gore, violence are large factors in this story. While I don't have a graphic rape scene, it is mentioned and alluded to. If anything of the like is triggering, please don't read it, my goal is not to harm anyone. None of my main characters are sexually assaulted. If you're unsure of if you want to chance it or not and want further detail on what happens, please feel free to message me and I will respond back as soon as possible. Thank you ^^

The back alley brought him out to a street he didn’t recognize, the sound of that truck and its occupants still audible behind him. He kept his speed at a light jog, trying to keep his steps quiet. Nothing looked familiar. Where the fuck was he? He’d walked these streets for years, how was it possible that he had no idea where he was?

  
His head pounded a rhythm of pain and Mark’s vision was blurry through his cracked glasses. God, he just wanted to sleep. Everything hurt and ached and he just wanted to lay down and give up. But he wouldn’t. Mark had been through much worse than this before, he had a scar on his belly to prove it. _You still cried like a baby when you got it_. A snide voice in his head whispered.

  
He didn’t see her coming until it was too late. He was too busy remembering, watching over his shoulder when he should’ve been paying closer attention to where he was going. He ran smack into her as he went around the corner. “Shit.” He gasped, stumbling away fast, wide eyes on her as he took her in.   
She was young, younger than him, he thought-maybe in her late teens. Her hair was curled prettily around her face and her makeup was done up to the nines. She was wearing a large, floofy ballgown dress the color of bubblegum and sparkly high heels. Her entire body was speckled with dirt and bright, red blood and she held a recently-used butcher knife close to her breast.

  
“You don’t”- He gasped, putting his hands up in front of himself, careful not to point the tip of his own knife at her, yet. “You don’t have to-I’m not going to hurt you.”

  
Her head tilted to the side, like a bird or a curious child, her sharp, narrowed eyes boring through him. “Funny. That’s what men all say before they hurt you. Pigs. Filthy, squealing fuckers all after one thing. Daddy thought I’d never hurt him. Not how he hurt me. He thought wrong.” Her glossy lips spread into a pleased smile. “All men want one thing. How about I show you what it’s like to get fucked like a pretty little toy?”

  
His back hit the brick wall and she came at him, raising her arm high and letting out a piercing scream. Mark screamed too, at first in complete surprise, then in pain as the attack caught his forearm, tearing through his jacket and skin with ease. “Dammit!” He shouted, blood spilling onto the pavement as he twisted away from the assault. “Don’t make me.” He begged, raising his own weapon reluctantly. “Please, _please_ don’t make me!”

  
Panting in delight, she grinned wickedly at him, tongue flicking out to taste a drop of blood that’d landed on her lip. “I used to beg daddy just like that. Beg him and his friends. I never quite understood how they could get so much pleasure just from hearing me beg. I think I understand now.” This time when she came at him he attacked back, slicing at her arms, purposefully not hitting anything vital in the hopes that she would drop her weapon. Her pleased smile only grew bigger.

  
Mark swung wide, struggling to keep out of her range. He caught her in the cheek, leaving a long, bleeding gash. She froze, lips twitching as her eyes glazed over. “You got my face.” She whispered lowly. “How the fuck am I going to get a good job if you’ve given me a scar? Ugly girls don’t get good jobs!” 

“Well, that’s not really true”-

  
“Penny, darling, if you kill him we won’t have a proper match.” Mark jumped, gritting his teeth in frustration. He hadn’t even noticed the second woman enter the alley.

  
She stood tall and regal behind Penny, and by tall, he meant tall. He couldn’t say how tall she’d be without heels on, but with them she stood at a little over six feet. She towered over Mark as she stalked closer, a long Victorian dress sweeping the dirty alley. She smiled politely at him, an older woman maybe in her fifties. In her hands, she carried an umbrella, it's tip made out of steel and glittering dangerously like a sword.

  
“What the fuck do you mean?” Mark demanded, weapon still raised as he tried not to show how afraid he was. What the hell had he gotten himself into? “A proper match for what?”

  
The woman’s vacant smile turned pleased as she drifted closer still, seemingly undisturbed by Mark’s knife. “Oh sweetheart. You’re going to be the entertainment for tonight.”

  
“I don’t know what that is, but I know that I don’t want anything to do with it.” He rushed out, back pressed tight against the bricks, keeping both ladies in sight. He had to get by them, but how could he without getting seriously injured in return?

  
“Oh. You poor thing, I wasn’t asking.” She raised her hand to her lips and blew a cloud of dirt, hitting him right in the face. He barely even had time to cry out before a blow to his head knocked him to the ground. He hit it cursing, already trying to roll to his feet as he blinked the shit out of his eyes. Penny started kicking him viciously, aiming for his legs and stomach, a couple lucky shots catching him in the face and making him see stars.   
He fought back as much as he could, swinging his knife blindly, catching an ankle, her shins. Then, one perfectly aimed heel caught him in the temple and everything went dark.   
~

  
The sound of cheering and catcalls woke him, the burning pain throbbing throughout his whole body as he groaned and blinked his eyes open. A face loomed over him, the older lady from earlier, and she grinned down at him with a fresh coat of lipstick. Some of which had migrated its way onto her teeth. “Hello dear, I’m afraid it’s time to wake up now. I’d hate for you to miss the main event.”

  
The cheering grew louder and a long scream pierced the night air. There was the abrupt, violent sound of a chainsaw reeving and the scream was silenced.   
“Up, up, rise and shine.” She prodded at his aching side with her umbrella. Wincing, Mark struggled to sit up, blinking blood and other things out of his poor, abused eyes. He wasn’t sure how much more his head could take tonight.

  
He was in a park. Chains and barbed wire were strung up between some of the lampposts in a make-shift fence, making it harder to run into the wooded areas and music played loudly, pulsing up through the ground. There were several cages, some empty, some containing what looked like hunched over, naked men. Body parts hung over everything from park benches to bushes. There were women everywhere. All of them were dressed strangely from older styled dresses to prom dresses-some wore lingerie. A few were completely bare. All of them carried a weapon of some sort. There were women walking around with drugged-up looking men, collared and leashed beside them, others haggled the ones in the cages. One wore what Mark thought to be genitalia on a rope around her neck.

  
“What…what is this?” He whispered, horrified at the scene around him.

  
“Well, we don’t quite have a name, yet.” The lady chuckled. “But, we do all have one common goal. To watch men suffer in every way imaginable. Just like they all deserve. You’re young-you’ve probably never hit a woman, belittled or raped her. But you will. It’s in your nature. You all think you’re so superior, taking what you just assume is yours. You’re wrong. This is our retribution.”

  
Penny stalked up, looking him over. “You’re mine. I’ve chosen you and I can’t wait to watch you bleed, little pig.” Begging wouldn’t work here, it only seemed to excite the girl, so he stayed silent as the women shoved and corralled him towards an encircled pen made out of chicken wire. He’d have to find another way out of this-wait for his chance to escape.

  
There was a small, guarded slit in the wire cage. The women grinned as he approached and held it open for him as one of his handlers gave him a push. Mark stumbled in, looking over his shoulder to see the opening disappear as they held it closed. They sneered at him, Penny pushing a few others aside so she could press herself up to the outside for a better view. A better view for what?

  
There was a man sitting cross-legged in the middle. Mark froze when he caught sight of him, his eyes going to the stranger’s arm where he had a small, electric saw attached by duct tape to a bloody stump where his hand should’ve been. The man was middle-aged and shirtless, a red business tie wrapped around his head like some mock version of Rambo. He watched Mark with wide, sad eyes as they ran over his body, measuring him up.   
The man stood up.

  
“Wait.” Mark gasped out, throwing his hands up in front of him. “Look, dude, I don’t want to do this.”

  
Smiling a little, the man limped exhaustively forwards. “You think I want to? We have no choice. Sorry, kid. I’m going to kill you.”

  
_Shit, shit, oh god_ -he patted down his body, not expecting anything, but-A knife. They hadn’t taken away his knife. Mark pulled it out, the blade not as menacing looking when compared to the rusty saw attached to the guys _fucking hand_. The man cocked his head at the sight of the knife and made a face, almost like he was saying, _really_? He reached for the saw, fiddling with the switches until-it buzzed to life. The saw made an awful, screeching whine as it vibrated. 

Mark assumed the man was too tired to run based on his slow, shambling walk towards him. _You know what they say about assuming_.   
~

  
They hadn’t strayed too far from the spot they’d been at in the beginning of the night, which turned out to be a good thing when they took a right turn in the van and heard the thumping of especially loud music coming from the park. “What the fuck is going on over there, do you think?” Ken drawled, rolling down his window a few inches so they could hear more clearly. Faintly, almost covered up by the sound of wailing guitars and hearty drums, was cheering and the occasional scream of terror.

  
Sitting still for a minute, the van having slowed to a complete stop in the middle of the street, the three of them sat silent as they listened and tried to discern what exactly was going down. “Call the guys in.” Jack finally said, checking his gun clips for the tenth time before loading his vest pockets with more ammo. “That sounds like an awfully big party we’re about to crash and I think we might need some reinforcements.”

  
“Should we scope it out a little first?” Felix asked, and Jack could see his eye twitch a little when the clear sound of a chain saw could be heard, despite the music.   
“Yeah. We’ll ask the guys to meet us here and while we’re waiting, see if we can’t get a good view of what’s going on.”

  
His team nodded in agreement, Ken rolling up his window before grabbing the radio mic. Arin sounded a little wooden and hoarse when he answered, but claimed that everything was good on their end. “Our van cams in back got knocked out, but the creeps were dealt with. No injuries on our end.” It sounded a little more complicated than that, from the tone in his voice. Ken and Jack shared a look before moving on to request backup. What they did wasn’t easy, and it left its fair share of mental scars, but if they were all going to survive the night intact, they’d have to put that talk on the back burner for now.

  
“We’ll head your way.” Danny chimed in from the radio after Ken told them the situation. “It’s all surprisingly quiet on our end.”

  
“Copy that, see you guys in a few.”

  
And that was that. “Whelp, time to nut up, boys.” Felix said with a wide grin before throwing open the back door to the van and hopping out. Everyone followed suit and they were on their way, watching the shadows around them with their guns trained at the ready.

~

The buzz of that saw whizzing by his face was one of the scariest things Mark had ever seen, feeling the shout bubble out of his throat, rather than hearing it over the thumping of his panicking heart or that awful power tool. He ducked low, turned right, rolled left, doing all he could just to keep out of the weapons path. All the while, the man wielding it just seemed resigned, his teeth gritted as he swung again and again.

The women’s cheering had quickly turned into booing, all of them seemingly disappointed that Mark wasn’t dead or fighting back. What did they expect him to do? This man was fighting like he had nothing to lose. Mark did another roll through the dirt, wincing as his whole, entire being throbbed in retaliation from the night’s earlier traumas, not noticing how close to the fence he’d come until there was a feminine hand gripping his torn hoodie.

“Got him!” The woman crowed, her voice sounding foreign. Her nails dug deep into the fabric, holding unbelievably tight and he tried to yank away before another hand wrapped low around his waist. “Come get him!”

Saw-Man wasted no time, bringing his arm up for a swing as he ran towards them, face set in determination. The buzzing saw was coming closer, almost on him and Mark struggled violently. It seemed in vain until the last second when he was able to finally free himself from the women’s grasp just in time, using his weight against them as he threw himself to the ground and out of the way. There was a loud screech of pain and a warm spray of copper-scented blood hit the back of Mark’s head. He turned, expecting that he’d been hit, that all of the blood soaking him was coming from a fatal wound on his back. The foreign woman who’d been holding him was wailing through the fence, clutching her hand together from where it’d been split down the middle like some crude gang sign.

“You fucker!” The lady screamed, spittle flying out around her red face, blood soaking the ground and her clothes.

“Sorry.” The man said lamely. “I was aiming for him.”

She turned her wild gaze to Mark, blood on her teeth as she snarled. “Kill him, you pig!”

How the fuck was he supposed to do that?

Mark was still on the ground when the man lunged again and he raised his knife up just in time to block. There was the awful sound of the vibrating saw chewing the metal of his blade, sparks flying, before it was knocked to the side. Then, a hot tear of agony as the metal teeth tore through Mark’s arm. He couldn’t look, didn’t dare look as he thrust his other arm up, the one holding onto the knife with dear life. It sank deep into the man’s stomach, all the way to the hilt and Mark could feel the blade grate against spine.

“Fuck.” He gagged, watching, horrified as the life drained out of the man’s eyes, blood spilling in thick rivulets down his forearm.

The sound of cheering came flooding back again, all at once, and he wasn’t sure if it’d ever stopped in the first place, or if he just hadn’t been able to hear it over the sound of his own fear. Clenching his teeth in pain, he shoved the man off, his body hitting the ground with a thump, his eyes staring lifelessly up at the sky.

“We have a winner!” One of the women from the crowd shouted and all of them started shaking the chicken wire, screaming their approval.

Mark risked a glance down at his arm, seeing the sleeve of his hoodie soaked with blood. _Fuck_. He unzipped it, trying not to look too hard at his wound as he tied the ratted clothing around it in hopes of staunching the bleeding. It didn’t look too bad; at least he still had his arm. Slowly, he stood up, testing the strength in his knees and determinedly not looking at the man he’d killed leaking blood into the dirt.

“Now what?” He called out weakly, exhausted to his very soul as he thought longingly of his home, of his friends and family who would be so devastated to find out where he was on the night of the Purge. “Please, I just want to go home.” Mark knew he was practically begging now, but he didn’t have the energy to care. He just wanted tonight to be over.

“Now you wait.” Penny said and he could just make her young face out from the sea of forms around her, see her blood lust in her manic gaze. “We’ll bring your next opponent soon enough.”

The majority of the crowd decreased, leaving a small group of them at the opening to guard. After a few minutes, two of them entered to drag the body of the man out, leaving trails of gore in his wake. Mark sat down in the middle, in the exact spot the man before him had been sitting, and tried to think of a plan. All he could do was recall the faces of the people he’d murdered just so he could survive another year of America’s annual Purge.

~

When they got as close as they could to the scene without being spotted, they pulled out their binoculars and got down on their bellies. They’d picked a higher vantage point on a hill with no lampposts close enough to give them away in the dark and a large bush next to them to duck into, just in case whoever these people were had someone patrolling. At some point in their walk, they’d heard a loud volley of cheering and Jack had to force himself and his team to not run to the source. Whatever was happening sounded bad and it went against everything in his body not to run in and save the day. But they didn’t know what was happening or who these people were and in the end, running in headfirst would only get him and his friends killed.

Once they got their equipment out, Jack and Ken smirking quietly to themselves as Felix fussed over having to lay on the ground, they began scoping the area, quietly calling out things they saw. “It’s like a goddamn Rob Zombie film down there.” Jack said, his nose wrinkling at the blood and gore decorating the park. There were women everywhere, of all ages, in various items of clothing. There was also the occasional man, but every one he caught sight of didn’t seem to be having quite as good of a time.

“Yo.” Felix called out, sounding both disgusted and intrigued. “One of those ladies is wearing a fucking cock necklace. What the fuck, man?”

“Jack, look over there.” Ken whispered, nudging Jack’s shoulder and directing his view towards a large cage-looking thing. “I think that’s that guy you met earlier.”

Jack wasn’t exactly sure what he meant until he focused on the person sitting in the center of the cage, head resting on his knees. It was Mark, though a much dirtier, bloodier version than the one he’d met in the store. His black hair looked matted in the back with gore and his clothes were dirty and torn in several places, his glasses cracked. He was covered in cuts and bruises and his forehead was dark with dry blood. There was a dark article of clothing wrapped around his arm like a makeshift bandage and resting beside him in the dirt was a recently-used knife.

“Shit.” He mumbled, taking in the slump of Mark’s shoulders, the blood in the dirt, and the women guarding the cage. “What did they do to you?”

His mind brought the image of Mark from earlier back up, his kind eyes, shy smile. Every instinct in his body was fighting against him now, wanting to storm into their creepy cult party and blow them all away with his gun. Mark didn’t deserve this. And when his eyes caught sight of a pile of bodies a few feet away from the outside of the cage, he knew most of them hadn’t either.

There was a firm hand gripping his shoulder and he glanced over to his friend, trying to shake off the blinding rage threatening to turn him into a rampaging idiot. “Let’s just wait for backup and then we’ll get him and the rest of them out of there, okay?” Ken said.

Jack nodded back slowly, blinking rapidly, trying to calm his breathing. That was right. They’d been too late for the rest of them, but they could save the ones trapped in those cages, they could save Mark. They just had to be smart about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reads and especially to those who take the time out of their day to comment. ;) See you in the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't say this is my best, but I want to update this story as opposed to what I normally do-which is reread and check for errors until it's been six months and I still haven't posted it. So, please don't roast me too hard on any spelling issues, or grammar, I'm very sorry if it offends you. Now, with that out of the way-the next chapter or so has LOTS of violence, gore, graphic shit, etc. No sexual triggers in this chapter, but brief nudity described. Again, I have nothing against any genders, I am a female, myself. This is just a story and what I write about any gender as a whole is not what I believe.   
> Thank you for all of the positive feedback and please take care of yourselves. ;)

When they figured it’d been long enough for the rest of the group to have arrived, they stealthily made their way back to the van, Jack taking carefully measured steps and fighting the tension running through him. Arin, Danny, and Ross were all waiting by their own vehicle when they exited the woods, all of them on alert. Arin had a bruise darkening around his neck, but he just shook his head when Jack raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“It’s nothing. Tell you all about it later. So, did you guys get a good look at what was going on down there?” He let Ken and Felix fill them in, grip tight on his weapon. Danny’s face when Felix recounted the cock necklace was priceless.

“That’s fucked up.” Danny groaned, shaking his wild curls. “What the fuck, man.” Arin and Ross had similar expressions.

“Let’s go kill these fuckers.” Arin said and patted his gun.

Ross looked mildly uncomfortable. “What exactly is the plan? Do we…just go in and…kill all the women? Just women? And rescue the men?”

Jack nodded. “I didn’t see any male aggressors. Only female. Don’t kill them if they surrender or run, but remember, no matter what gender they are, they’ve done some sick things tonight. Don’t hesitate just because they’re women, it’ll get you killed.” There’d been so many, women who were probably someone’s teacher, next door neighbor, sister, parent. But none of them had looked as if they were being forced to be there and the pile of bodies and blood on the ground was damning. They couldn’t hesitate- _he_ couldn’t hesitate. Maybe not all of the men they were mutilating were innocent, but _Mark_ -he’d seen a glimpse of his kind soul earlier in the store. “Let’s do it.”

Ken and Ross were set up in the hill on opposite sides of the “party” down below, both of them in charge of taking out aggressors and watching everyone’s backs from their advantage points. Jack, Felix, Arin, and Dan were heading in from different angles, relying on stealth as long as they could until it was impossible.

Jack had his tactical knife out, approaching slowly as he used bushes and shadows to hide himself. The first woman he closed in on was middle-aged, dressed only in a short, silky dress slip. Her feet were bare and he could catch the glint of a wedding band on the hand gripping a bloody hatchet. Not letting himself think about it, he snuck up behind her, not breathing until he had a hand snatching her mouth closed and the other shoving his knife deep into her throat. He held her while she twitched and flailed, spurting blood when he pulled his weapon free. Seconds later, though it felt like eons, she went still against him and he let her dead weight help carry her to the ground. There was a nearby park bench and he dragged her to it and sat her down, hoping that no one would think anything about it for the time being.

He made his way through two more until there was a sudden crack in the air and the sound of a body dropping behind him. Jack whirled, seeing a naked elderly woman in the dirt, a long machete beside her. She’d been about to stab him in the back. “Cats out of the bag.” Ken growled over his ear piece. “Sorry, guys.”

“No worries.” Jack replied, pulling out his gun and facing the masses. “Good shooting.” The music was pulsing up through his feet, a steady drum and there were a lot of eyes on him. “Watch each other’s backs, don’t be stupid. Ask for help when you need it.” There was a round of affirmatives in his ear and then the fighting started.

~

Mark was only fifteen, but he could tell the man next door was odd. Not an endearing sort of odd, either. There was, in his opinion, nothing endearing about Carl Pickman. His mom put up with him most days, smiling and waving when they passed him standing out in his yard, or letting him in the house even though he’d stay for hours just chatting about nothing. But that’s what you did when once a year those neighbors you’d snubbed could come back to bite you in the ass. You played nice, you put up with their inane bullshit.

Mark didn’t want to play nice with Mr. Pickman, though he did for his mom’s sake. After his father’s passing, they’d gotten a large sum of money from his life insurance policy. Unfortunately, a lot of it had gone towards hospital bills, but they’d been able to fortify their home’s defenses a little. Still, it wouldn’t help to test people. So, Mark waved at the weirdo standing in his yard, blatantly staring at him when he came home from school. He made awkward conversation when the older man showed up at their house and loitered around the kitchen.

He hated every minute of it, but Mark endured. And when the day of the annual Purge came around and Mr. Pickman taught him and his mom not to put their faith in home security, Mark was shocked. Well mostly. The look in his neighbor’s eyes had always given him the creeps. But they’d never given the man any reason to hurt them. One of the many things Mark found out that night was that some people don’t need a reason to inflict pain on others.

He fell asleep with his mom on the couch and woke up tied to one of the dining room chairs. His first irrational thought was that his mom had done it, until he looked up and saw her in a similar situation across from him. Carl Pickman spent the next three hours torturing them. The only reason they’d made it to dawn was because Mark’s bindings had become so slippery with blood, he’d been able to free himself and sneak into the kitchen while his neighbor was taking a piss break in their bathroom. He’s stabbed Mr. Pickman in the back when the man came out, wiping blood on one of his mom’s nice, cream bath towels.

His mom had held him in the bedroom closet and let him cry, her small hands keeping pressure on the deepest wound located on his lower stomach until the sun was shining in through under the door. They hadn’t gotten to ask the man why he’d done what he had. Mark wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He’d moved on as much as he could, but he had the scars. His mom didn’t talk to her neighbors anymore, opting to keep to herself and steadily work on reinforcing the doors and windows to their family home. Carl Pickman may have died, but he’d taken apart of them with him.

There was a lot of screaming happening, but he didn’t think anything of it, at first, lost in his thoughts. There was blood everywhere, soaking his arms, drying in his hair and he didn’t think he’d ever be clean again. Not that he would survive tonight. Mark had resigned himself to dying in this cage, either by some other poor soul forced to fight him or the angry females who’d stuck him here.

He was thinking about his mother and friends when he realized some of the sounds he’d been hearing were gunshots. Blinking drowsily, he looked up, squinting to see through the lights and his cracked glasses. He couldn’t see much, but his pen was unguarded. There were a few running women disappearing into the trees and bushes, but most seemed to be converging in groups around other forms in dark clothes. Someone was attacking them.

Standing, Mark cautiously walked towards the chicken fence, his whole body screaming at him to sit back down and give up. There were a lot of bodies. Female bodies. Could this be his chance? He didn’t see anyone watching him-though he couldn’t see much at the moment. He was very sure he had a concussion and it was hard see through his wavering vision.

The knife he’d brought in with him was still in the dirt, exactly where he’d left it after he’d stuck the man in the gut, and he went to pick it up. The exit was easy enough to open-it’d only been secured with zip ties, which he cut through. Mark stepped through the opening he’d made and stared out into the fray before taking off blindly into the trees, stumbling and tripping over lifeless forms on the ground.

~

Dan had never really been a fan of violence. He was laid back, didn’t have enough anger in his body to ever hold a grudge. And, yet, here he was at some weird anti-male party pistol whipping a snarling woman in the face. _It has to be done_ , he told himself, preparing for the next attack. _These are bad people_. It didn’t make it any easier and when morning came and the adrenaline wore off, he’d probably crawl into bed and cry himself to sleep thinking about the people he’d hurt.

He saw Arin facing off against three women a few yards away and started in his direction, gun at the ready. One of them, a thin Asian with a mutilated hand, got in a good hit with her blade, slicing through his friend’s thigh. He heard Arin shout in pain and started running, dodging someone running at him with their own weapon to get to there faster. Dan was slightly worried about Ross-no shots had been heard echoing from his direction in a while-but a shot came from Ken’s location and downed one of the aggressors.

He was there in the next second, shoving into the Asian woman and knocking her off balance. She came back up, teeth bared like an animal and swiped at him, getting his vest before he placed the muzzle of his weapon to her forehead and pulled the trigger. Dan didn’t stop to observe his work, instead turning to Arin.

His friend had taken out the third woman and was wincing, the wound in his thigh dribbling blood down his leg. “I’m good.” He said. “Not too deep. Thanks for the assist.”

“Anytime, Big Cat.” They took off back into the madness, Dan keeping an eye on Arin as they continued fighting. Yeah, he wasn’t a fan of violence. But he’d do anything for his friends and worry about the repercussions later. “Hey, Ross? How you doing, bud?” He said into his ear mic, firing off a shot and hitting someone trying to rush Felix from behind while he was having it out with a darker-skinned lady with dreads.

There wasn’t an answer.

 

~

The park below was utter chaos. Squinting through the scope on his weapon, Ross shot someone in the back and was moving onto his next target before they’d even gone down. This was easier than being down there in the middle of the massacre. If he was honest, he knew they’d stuck him up here because they thought he was a scaredy-cat. In his defense, this was some terrifying shit. How do you get used to people trying to kill you? After the incident in the van earlier, he was still a little shaky and he was praying his jitters wouldn’t get one of his friends killed. _Watch each other’s backs_.

“This is bullshit. Complete bullshit.” He whispered to himself and hoped it was quiet enough that the mic wouldn’t pick it up. Ross wanted to be here-really he did. He wanted to help his friends and make sure they made it home safe and alive in the morning. But normal people would be scared of this shit, right? So what if he wasn’t as brave as his friends? He was still here. Three more women went down- _Jesus, how many are there?-_ and there was a sound behind him.

He jumped in surprise and whirled around just in time for a wooden bat to connect with his right arm. Shouting, he jerked away, gripping his arm to his chest and just evading another swing-the bat whistling in front of his nose. A crazed-looking girl in a prom dress screamed in anger, makeup and blood running down in streams. “Fuck you!” She shrilled, swinging again and again, pushing him further back as he struggled to keep out of reach. “Fuck you, _fuck you_! I hate you!”

Ross ran out of room, his back hitting a tree. He jumped back from it, thinking someone else had managed to sneak up on him, and the girl took advantage of his distraction. The bat hit him again, this time in the head. His legs turned into jelly and he hit the ground hard, panting in pain as a flood of hot liquid spilled down his face. “Backup.” He croaked. “I-I need backup.” Nothing answered him back and he reached a shaky hand up to find that his ear piece was gone. Must’ve fallen out when she’d whacked him.

Two, small, bare feet came into his field of vision and he trailed his heavy eyes up to see her standing over him with a feral smile. “Now I’ve you exactly where I want you, little piggy. Time to send you back to Hell where your kind belongs.” The bat went up over her head. _Move. You’ve got to move_. He wavered, trying to get out of the way, his hands gripping dirt and grass.

The bat came down.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are most welcome, thank you to all who read this. ^^


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's a short one, but I didn't want to leave you a cliffhanger for too long. We're nearing the end of our story as well! There is a sequel lined up, and I'll get right to it after I've finished this. Thank you for reading. ^^

The bat didn’t connect. A bloodied form plowed into her from the side, knocking her to the ground as the bat rolled past Ross. She screeched like a banshee, her lip bleeding as she struggled beneath his new fucking hero. An Asian man with glasses sat on top of her, looking down with a sad expression.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his whole body radiating pain as he gripped her small wrists in his hands and raised a gory knife with the other. “I’m sorry for what you went through and I’m sorry that I have to do this. I’m really, really sorry.” He brought the knife down, driving it in through her chest. She stopped struggling immediately. The blade slid out, a wave of blood following it as the man released his grip on her and stood up slowly.

“You’re Mark, right?” Ross said quietly, pressing his hand to the wound in his head and climbing to his feet. “J-Jack told us you were here. Thank you.”

Mark looked at him, squinting through dirty glasses, but didn’t react further than that. Instead, he hobbled over to the tree that’d almost got Ross killed and bent down to pick something up, using the trunk to keep his balance. He came back up and held out his hand to Ross. His ear piece sat in the middle of the man’s red stained palm.

~

He was having trouble believing that none of these people had a fucking gun when a loud bang sounded directly behind him and there was a burning sting in his arm. Gritting his teeth and turning, Jack pointed his gun at an older woman with an umbrella in one hand and a raised revolver.

“You’ve messed up everything!” She yelled in a scolding tone, hand trembling on her weapon. Her gaze went from side to side, taking in the carnage, the bodies littered everywhere. She looked haunted. Shit, he probably did, too. He’d murdered a lot of people tonight. “ _You_! You, you just had to _ruin_ everything! Why do men always ruin _everything_? You killed all of them! They had families! Children! You’re a monster!”

“And what do you think you are?” He felt like a monster. Her words dug deep, but he would be more scared if they didn’t. There was a difference between him and all the women who’d been here tonight. Jack and his friends didn’t like killing and what they’d done tonight would give them nightmares. These women had been killing for sport and would’ve walked home to their families and kids in the morning and acted like none of it had mattered. Like the lives they’d taken hadn’t mattered.

He fired off a shot before she could say another word-her mouth opening to spit more hate. Talking it out wouldn’t help. He couldn’t change her mind.

The park was a blood bath. He took it in, eyes immediately trying to locate his friends and make sure everyone was okay. He breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of them. Felix was letting the men out of the cages. Dan was tying a bandage tight around Arin’s thigh while he winced and complained. Jack started walking towards them, raising his hand to his ear piece.

“Sound off. Ken, Ross, you guys good?”

“I’m clear here.” Ken’s gruff, tired voice replied back. “Heading down to you guys.”

Jack waited a minute, nearing the rest of his group. “Ross? Come back, please.” Silence. Dan looked over to him, anxious when no reply seemed to be forthcoming.

“Shit.” Arin growled angrily, lips tight as their eyes went to the spot where they knew Ross was supposed to have been hiding.

“I’m here.” A weak voice broke over the mic. Everyone’s collected relief could be felt. Dan reached out to grip Arin’s shoulder as they smiled, happy that everyone had made it. “Sorry, got hit from behind. I’m alive thanks to someone you know, Jack.”

Jack frowned in confusion before his eyes snapped over to the pen where he’d seen Mark at the beginning of the fight. It was empty. “No shit.” He grinned. “You both okay? Can you make it down, or do you need us to come get you?”

“Nah, nah we got it. See you guys in a minute.”

The sky was brightening up by the time they caught sight of two figures making slow progress towards them. Ken had already made it down and they were all sitting semi-patiently on the ground taking drinks from their water bottles. Jack jumped up to his feet and a burst of energy shot him forwards. Ross looked not great-a split in his hairline still leaking blood and his pale face making him look downright ghastly. Mark though. Mark looked far worse. His clothes were ripped in several places and filthy, and he was _covered_ in gore. Some of it appeared to belong to other people, but most of it-most of it looked like it was his. There were forming bruises decorating his face and neck, cuts aplenty, and a definite head wound. His arm was wrapped up so Jack couldn’t see what the damage to the appendage was, but by how much blood had soaked through it, he figured it was in bad shape. How he was still on his feet, Jack had no idea.

“Okay, you’re okay, sit down.” He said when he reached them, the rest of his group appearing beside him to help the two sink easily to the ground. “Jesus, Mark.” Mark was barely holding his eyes opened, blinking blearily at him.

“Hey, Jack.” He said finally, and swayed. “Can I lie down?”

“No, not yet, buddy.” Jack soothed, eyes flitting over to where Dan was pressing bandages to Ross’s head and trying to see how deep it was. A bottle of water passed in front of his face and Jack reached out to grab it, giving Ken a grateful smile before uncapping it and holding it to Mark’s mouth. “Drink some of this, yeah? It’s only water.” Mark hesitated before placing a shaky hand on the bottle and drinking. Jack left his hand for support and looked over the injuries, unsure if the man was strong enough to hold it on his own. Where did they even start to fix him up? “You’ve had a shit night, huh?”

Mark pulled back from the mouth of the bottle, waving it off when Jack tried to raise it again. “You could definitely say that. How much time until this shit is over?”

That was a very good question. “We’ve got another hour or so.” Arin said and pulled out some baby wipes. He handed a few to Jack and took his own to the side of Mark’s face, gently wiping at some of the blood and avoiding the places that made Mark wince too hard. Jack did the same, eyeing the arm. “We have more supplies in the vans.” Arin reminded him and Jack nodded in agreement.

“How bad is your arm, Mark?” He asked quietly, tossing a wipe to the side and starting in with a new one.

They could see more of his face now, the pallor of his skin and the sweat beads already gathering on his forehead despite the chill worrisome. “Bad. I think. I didn’t look too hard at it, but I got hit with a little hack saw, so I’m assuming it’s going to be gross.” He laughed, a little hysterically. “I didn’t lose any fingers though. Lucky, right?”

Jack’s heart broke a little more for him. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt as much over the people he’d killed here tonight. _The Purge makes monsters of us all_. “We’re going to get you help. We’ll patch you up in the van and when The Purge is over, we’ll get you to a hospital. You’re going to be fine.”

~

He wasn’t conscious for most of the walk back, he didn’t think. Mark didn’t know if someone carried him, but they had to have. One minute he was swaying on his feet in the middle of that Godforsaken park and the next he was in the back of a van, laid out across a seat. He wanted to cry. Everything on him hurt and he was so _tired_.

“Oh shit, that doesn’t look good.” Someone said. “I don’t know if we can take a hit from that thing.”

“What a busy year we’re having guys.” Someone else said mockingly.

“Have they spotted us, Ken?” This person’s voice was right over him and he realized the hand resting over his chest belonged to them. “Anyway we can hide out in an alley until they've passed us?”

"We can sure try.  It's hard to tell how perceptive these guys are-I can't tell if they've seen us or not."  

Mark slowly opened his eyes, everything spinning as he tried to see what was going on.  Jack was next to him on the floor of the van, his hand spread out on Mark's chest as he watched out the front windshield for something.  "It shouldn't matter for too long."  He said.  "We've got ten minutes left."

"Ten minutes is a lot of time for people to get hurt."  The person up front replied grimly.  

Mark let his eyes close again.  In one way or another, when they opened again everything would be over.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all who read this! And triple thank you if you send me kudos or comment. I'll try my very hardest to keep updates regular.


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